


Twinkies and ranch dressin'

by Cleverbreawisekylan



Category: American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, F/F, and has some real gross cravings, because these two deserve a happy family, cordelia isn't impressed, just some tooth - rotting sweet stuff, misty is pregnant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29702022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cleverbreawisekylan/pseuds/Cleverbreawisekylan
Summary: Cordelia quickly comes to learn that Misty's pregnancy cravings are some truly horrific creations.
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	Twinkies and ranch dressin'

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some more foxxay family fluff for you guys! it's what we all need. I guess it's set in the 'If this is love, then love is easy" universe. Expect more of this little family :) Lemme know what you think!

i.

Cordelia groans at the sound of her alarm, rolling over and blindly reaching out to swat it into silence before throwing herself onto her back and sighing. Her eyes remain closed the entire time, but she feels Misty shuffle up closer to her, face finding the crook of her neck. 

Her breath is a hot tickle on the skin, doing far more to wake her up than ease her back into slumber. Misty’s tight hold around her midriff has her grinning, and she pokes one eye open to peer at her wife. All she spies is a mess of golden hair, which she pushes gently backwards, earning a quiet sigh from Misty. “Why do you have to get up so early?” she asks in a dead pan. 

A laugh dances on her lips, then there’s the shifting of limbs and covers as she decides it’s best to start the day before falling prey to the oh so tempting idea of staying in bed with her beautiful wife. She catches Misty’s mouth in a chaste kiss, grinning when Misty puckers her again afterwards. Cordelia complies with another kiss, longer, deeper before she severs it and smiles serenely. “Good morning to you too.” Hands instinctively reach out, smoothing over the swell of Misty’s stomach, “and good morning to you, baby.” 

Misty finally opens her eyes, sleepy and adorable, as a half-smile pushes onto her lips. “The baby kept me up all night. I don’t think she deserves a good mornin’.” The Cajun stretches as best she can under the watchful eye of Cordelia, whose fingers still trace the baby bump in awe. 

“I’m sure we can forgive her,” she says, not tearing her eyes away, “she’s pretty busy in there. Becoming a person and all that.” 

There’s an indignant grunt from Misty, but when she catches sight of Cordelia tenderly stroking her belly, she visibly softens. “I guess.” She places her hand over Cordelia’s, whether to have a loving moment or to settle some gas in her stomach, the older blonde doesn’t know. But she smiles either way. “She better be cute.” Misty jokes, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

Cordelia leans in, stealing another kiss from her. “She will be,” she mumbles against her soft lips, “have you seen Autumn? We make cute kids.” 

Grin widening, Misty brushes her thumb over Cordelia’s knuckles. “I can tell you one thing.” 

“Hmmm?” 

“She’s damn hungry.” She’s sitting herself up all too quickly, legs swinging over the side of the bed. As she stands, she sways slightly until steady under the new balance and turns to Cordelia, “c’mon, I’ll make us breakfast.” 

She can only happily agree, letting Misty head on down first while she checks on Autumn. The two year old snores away happily in her new toddler bed, arm hanging limply and soft toys strewn all around her. Satisfied, she follows the scent of food downstairs and grins at the sight of Misty waddling around the kitchen. One hand holds a spatula while the other remains firmly planted on her seven month bump, soothing it with circular motions. Watching fondly, Cordelia finds herself reflecting on her own experience. 

Cordelia had loved being pregnant, or she thinks she did. A couple of years prior when she’d been prime to pop, she remembers the way she’d glowed with joy, the way she found herself smiling and grinning to nothing in particular, but also the feeling of her daughter moving inside of her, that life, that energy – her lovingly made “bun in the oven”. 

But the more she thinks about the pregnancy, the more she remembers the not so ideal sides of it. Like the constant aches and pains, the way Autumn had pushed so far against her bladder that she cried on the toilet because she needed to pee but no pee was coming out! Even the constant need for food in a way she’d never experienced before. 

The one thing she had been lucky enough to avoid, though, had been the _cravings_. 

Turns out, Misty isn’t so lucky. 

She’s like a walking, talking article right out of some cliché mom’s magazine. _Weirdest things moms admit to eating in their pregnancies._ Or something just as eye catching, tugging the curious reader in to find out exactly how gross the prenatal diet can be. 

Even now, Cordelia can see the pickled onion jar loitering on the counter, lid open and half empty. When she gives Misty a teasing smile, the blonde blushes and turns her attention back to the pancakes. “It was makin’ me hungry,” she confesses. 

Cordelia moves up behind her, front flush against Misty’s back, and sweeps arms around her to squeeze her limber frame. A loving kiss is pressed against the back of her neck. “Eat what you want.” She offers supportively. “Whatever makes you and the baby happy.” 

Misty doesn’t hesitate to pop another of the pickled onions in her mouth, chewing happily, and not long after serving the homemade pancakes to them. They’re imperfectly perfect, with some bits daker than others and a slightly awkward shape that she thinks is supposed to be a heart, but she takes a bite with a grin anyway. They taste great and Misty made them for her, so that makes them the best pancakes in the world. 

Only, the small takes a plummet from her lips as she notices Misty using the pickle juice to marinate her pancakes, rendering them a sloppy mess with an unfortunately distinct smell. _Don’t judge, she’s pregnant. It’s not fair._

And she really tries her best to rein in the horror, but then she sees the juice dripping from the forkful on the way to Misty’s mouth and her insides recoil at the idea. 

Worst of all, Misty relishes the bite as though it’s the most delicious cuisine in the world, eyes closing serenely. 

Cordelia hides her abject horror by rushing to take another bite of her own food. 

ii.

“Do we have a blender?” 

She lifts her gaze when she sees Misty poke her head around the doorframe, barely able to keep still. 

Pausing to think, she lifts her glasses up and rubs at her overworked eyes. The paperwork scattered over her desk now lays abandoned where she’d left it to sit with her toddler, whose tea party had looked way more enticing that work. 

“Um, I believe so. I think Queenie used it last.” She says absentmindedly, holding out her empty cup for some fake tea to be poured into. Autumn does so with tongue poking out of her mouth as she concentrates, the spout of her plastic mug knocking the cup every so often. “Thank you, sweetie.” She takes a sip, then hums in happiness. “That is the best tea I’ve ever had!” Turning from Autumn’s beaming smile to Misty, she finds the Cajun grinning over at them. 

“What do you want a blender for?” she asks curiously over Autumn’s muttering. 

Misty blushes slightly, then gives a curt laugh. “You don’t wanna know.” 

“I’m sure I don’t.” She teases back. 

With that, Misty disappears from sight, but not from her thoughts. When wonder begins to get the better of her, she scoops up her toddler in a tight grip, one hand running through blonde locks that curl at the end attractively. There’s the usual flutter of girls all around the Academy, but she only has her sights set on one in particular. 

She’s successfully located a blender and it screeches as the contents whiz around inside. Upon seeing her wife, Misty raises a brow. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?” Her eyes slowly - _painfully_ so – rake down the entire length of Cordelia’s body with eyes that look like she might be her next meal. She scoffs in mock annoyance, but can’t ignore the way it sets her body on fire. 

The tips of her ears blush, too. She’s thankful that Misty is otherwise distracted with making what seems to be a smoothie and Cordelia has their daughter in her arms. If not, she’d be dragging her upstairs right this very second. 

She lowers the lanky toddler onto the counter when she becomes restless, then takes note of the chopped up items that Misty has no doubt placed inside the blender. “Oranges and doritos, hmm?” 

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.” Misty says as she sips the now bright orange, chunky mixture directly from the blender. 

Cordelia sighs, reaching inside the cupboard. “At least put it in a glass, Misty.” 

Misty is all too busy licking every last drop of it from her lips. “You want some?” 

With her nose crinkled up and a firm head shake, she replies. “I really don’t.” 

At the mentioned of food being given away, Autumn watches the pair with interest and then reaches out with grabby hands. “Me, me.” 

“You don’t want that sweetheart. Your mommy is only drinking it because of the baby.” 

She tilts her head, chocolate eyes wide as saucers. “Lil sis’er?” 

“Yeah, your little sister wants both those things. You won’t like it though.” 

“She might,” Misty reasons, “it’s good for her – it's got oranges in it.” 

“ _And_ chips.” 

With a playful roll of her eyes, Misty relents and purses her lips together with the want to smirk. She doesn’t, until Cordelia is drawn away by one of the students and Cordelia watches in her peripherals. Inwardly, she is facepalming as she sees Misty offer their daughter the biggest gulp of the concoction, who takes it all too happily. 

And the happiness lasts for all of four seconds before she spits it back out, straight down the front of her blue dress. “Icky.” Her face pinches together in disgust, wiping furiously at her tongue to get every last molecule off. 

“C’mere.” Misty says, cleaning her up with a dish towel and offering her some water. 

Cordelia returns with a look the screams _I told you so._

“Shut up.” The words are mumbled, on the verge of sulking, but Cordelia wraps her in a strong embrace. 

“I didn’t say anything,” she laughs against Misty’s neck. 

She huffs. “You were thinkin’ it.” 

“Oh, since when could you read minds, baby?” 

“Don’t have to,” she pulls away, “you’re like an open book.” 

She doesn’t have time to dwell on that fact because Autumn is interrupting their impromptu cuddle by tugging on Misty’s dress impatiently and calling her name. “Momma, up.” Misty smiles prettily and holds out arms for her to hop into, grunting slightly when feet knock her bump. It takes a moment of adjusting but soon Autumn sits comfortably on her lap, resting her head on Misty’s shoulder. 

The scene brings a delightful ache to Cordelia’s heart, one that spreads through every vein in her body until she’s overwhelmed with the strong pull of love. It’s something that she’d been rather devoid of most her life, other than the surrogate parentage from Myrtle. Now, with Misty, Autumn and another baby on the way, she has no idea how she survived without it, how she walked around with a heart so empty, because this is the best feeling in the world. She glances at Misty with admiration, swooning at the sight of her large bump and the way she expertly tends to Autumn’s every movement. 

Letting out a long, happy sigh, she breathes in the moment. 

Unfortunately, alongside that, she breathes in the scent of Misty’s smoothie and pretty much _gags_. “Misty, that stinks!” A hand flies to her nose, protecting it from the horrid odor. 

Misty frowns deeply, but takes a sip of her drink in defiance. “Well, you’re the one that knocked me up.” 

Cordelia chuckles, holding her breath before she presses a kiss to Misty’s cheek. “I’m not apologizing for that. I had lots of fun putting a baby in you.” 

“Go back to work, Miss Supreme.” Misty grins brightly at that, cheeks pink. All Cordelia can do is lovingly obey. 

iii. 

Soon, Cordelia finds out, that the cravings mutate, evolve – they take on a different form as though wanting to evade the idea of being boring. No, Misty’s cravings are far from boring, so far that she wonders if she should call their doctor and ask if it’s normal for her to be wandering up and down the laundry aisle for an hour at the grocery store smelling all of the detergents. 

And yes, detergents she can live with. They are appealing, sweet and often scents that she’s fond of herself, but Misty takes to an altogether different fragrance to obsess with. 

One that she notices out of the corner of her eye one day in the greenhouse, and then debates whether to push the subject. She does, her curiosity getting the better of her. 

Her words are soft, bubbling with the threat of laughter. “Misty, are you _sniffing_ the dirt?” 

Misty’s eyed widen, the hand of fresh soil flying down by her side where she clutches it instead. “No.” 

“You were.” She smirks, eyes shining even in the dim light. A hand reaches out to stop any teetering laughs as Misty’s delicate expression hangs on the cusp of upset. “You’ve got dirt on your nose.” Cordelia leans in then, a thumb wiping over her pretty nose and removing the smear of dirt in one slow motion. “There. Good as knew.” 

Misty gives a weak smile, but hovers in closer. It’s harder with the bump between them, nudging into Cordelia’s own tummy. “She likes weird things, doesn’t she?” she teases, “maybe she’s gonna take after you and be at one with nature.” 

A beautiful laugh flows from Misty, one that has her smile wider than ever and pink creeping across the top of her cheeks. “Yeah,” she agrees, rolling on her feet with a sudden burst of energy. “I can take her to the swamp. Autumn, too.” 

“Do I get to come?” Cordelia grins, reaching to take hold of Misty’s hand only to realize it’s still full of dirt. 

She laughs sheepishly and places it back into the pot before rubbing the remaining debris off with her dress. “I guess so,” she says, one eyebrow rising and a coy smile beginning. Misty initiates the touch now, her cold hands wrapping around Cordelia. She winces as she feels a foot kick out, then places a hand on her bump as if to satiate her daughter. 

It works, for about a second. She begins to kick up a storm. 

Cordelia watches on lovingly, hands placed over Misty’s bump as she giddily feels the baby moving around. She feels the familiar swell of unconditional love and astonishment, singing out so loud that she’s sure it must be deafening. Misty only smiles sweetly and stares into her eyes with unrivalled glee. 

One particular kick has her grunting softly in pain. “Okay, that one hurt.” 

“Yeah,” she nods in understanding, “Autumn used to tap dance on my bladder.” 

“Wish she’d calm down.” 

A taunting smirk makes home on her lips. “Maybe if you smell some more of that dirt it’ll keep her happy?” She regards her with a pointed brow, eyes growing mischievously dark. 

Misty rolls her eyes, pushing her away lightly and then purses her lips together. “I ain’t been sniffing dirt!” she insists. 

She releases her hold of Cordelia’s hands slowly, then nudges Cordelia in the direction of where the Supreme had been working moments ago with a shy smile. All too easily, they fall back into their work, Misty humming along with the distance music. 

And every so often, when she thinks Cordelia isn’t looking, Misty most definitely stands there holding the soil to her nose and inhaling deeply again. 

_She’s so fucking cute._

But Cordelia finds it decidedly less cute when the dirt is replaced with containers of mud, the same mud that Misty brings back from her visits to the swamp. Mud that is pungent and foul smelling and most definitely full of alligator crap! That Misty is smelling as though it’s a bouquet of roses. 

She stares to her wife in a mixture of shock and amusement, and the uttermost fondness. 

iv.

“Delia.” 

“Delia. . .” 

“. . . Cordelia, wake up.” 

She feels her dream of talking plants begin to ebb away as the very real sensation of Misty shaking her has the Supreme’s eyes fluttering open. In the darkness, her vision struggles to adjust, but there’s a shadow hanging above her. One that begins to form and become awfully similar to Misty. One final blink before she realizes it is her with a faint, exhausted smile lingering on her lips. 

“What is it?” she mumbles, so quietly that she’s surprised Misty even hears it. 

By now, her eyes are closing again, and she’s sinking into the fluffy pillows with the lull of more slumber all too tempting to resist. 

Those insistent hands carry on prodding, however, until an irritated groan follows. “Misty.” She whines. “It’s the middle of the night.” 

“I can’t sleep.” 

Cordelia blindly reaches out, hands making contact with Misty’s shoulder and gently rubbing it. Soft fingers meet her own, intertwining and she idly smiles, but still refuses to open her eyes. “You have a nightmare?” 

Her hand starts tugging Misty closer, ready to comfort her even if she is on the cusp of sleep. 

“No.” 

“Okay.” Cordelia rolls over and stifles a yawn. Though she can’t see Misty, she can still feel that insistent gaze burning on her skin, even in the darkness that surrounds them. “Is she kicking again?” her voice grows hoarser in the cold night air, but her words are caring, fondly floating in the air between them. 

Hands shake her again, jarring her into reality where she apologises with a sheepish smile for starting to fall asleep again. 

She reaches over now, filling the room with an orange haze as she switches on the lamp. Misty’s tiredness is highlighted with the black lines hanging out under her eyes, while she nervously tugs at her lip with teeth. She stares down to their joined hands, her thumb brushing over the wedding ring that looks right back at her. “What’s wrong, baby?” 

Misty pouts, eyes hooded and all sad in a way that plays Cordelia’s heart strings expertly like a violin. 

“I really want a burger.” 

A chortle follows from Cordelia, half muffled by the pillow that she’s leaning into. 

“Oh, you do?” 

“Real bad.” 

Her hand comes to rest over her bump, while those warm, blue eyes glisten with the attempt to make Cordelia feel sorry for her because the Supreme knows exactly what is coming. She counts down the seconds in her head until - 

“Will you go get one for me?” 

When Cordelia doesn’t respond straight away, Misty bustles up to her side, as quick as she can in her condition, and gives the sweetest of smiles. “I love you. _Please_?” 

Apparently, that is all the convincing she needs as she’s tiredly throwing on some comfy clothes and kissing Misty goodbye before sneaking down the stairs. The roads are quiet, unsurprisingly seeing as it’s barely past three am, and the server at the drive thru has about as much energy as herself. It feels like an eternity that she waits; at least long enough for her to have eyelids drooping from effort and her brain become a sleepy, fuzzy mess. That is until the paper bags are practically shoved into the car window and jerk her awake. 

They rustle all the way home, up the front path of the house, while the smell of grease and meat wafting from the bags infiltrates her wary senses in an altogether unsettling way. She sighs in relief, though, at the thought of being able to go back to sleep and tries not to think about her early meeting in the morning. 

Cordelia pauses at the door when she notices it ajar, hushed voices carrying from inside. Forehead creasing, she steps into the house and feels her expression harden at the sight of Zoe, Madison and Coco standing in the hall, with messy make up and glassy eyes. They all whisper for the other to be quiet, or drunk whisper – which is hardly a whisper at all. At least it doesn’t look like anyone has thrown up, or so she really damn well hopes not. 

“Girls,” she starts, “it’s very late.” And yes, technically they’re not really students anymore, but old habits die hard. Her overprotective nature always prevails. 

“The same could be said for you.” Madison cuts back, fluffing her hair in the mirror. “A midnight snack?” 

Cordelia frowns, then peers down to the two bags in her hands. “Misty.” She relaxes upon saying her name, then adds. “Baby stuff.” 

There’s a chorus of understanding and smirks. 

“She’s got you whipped.” 

She ignores that statement, bidding them all a stern goodnight before she returns back up to her room where Misty lays sprawled on the bed. She is doing a pretty great impression of a starfish with limbs as far apart as possible, while her head drops against the pillow. Cordelia’s nose crinkles at the sight of a bit of drool, laughter following. She looks so peaceful, at least for a moment – a rare time as of late that her pregnancy has let her sleep so deeply. Cordelia almost hates to ruin it, but she leans down next to the bed and runs careful fingers over Misty's hairline. “Wake up, baby.” 

Misty starts in an instant, flinching under her touch only to realize it’s her wife and then her open mouth settles into the sweetest of smiles. “What are you doin’ outta bed?’ She questions through dazed eyes. 

All she can do is stare incredulously. “You asked me to get you a burger!” 

At the mention of food, Misty is altogether more alert and invested in the conversation, staring hungrily down at the bags. “Did you get pickles?” she rifles inside, licking her lips. Cordelia nods. “And extra cheese?” Another nod, her hand moving over from where it hovers in Misty’s hair to cup her chin. 

Misty smiles gratefully, blue eyes dancing in delight in a way that has Cordelia spellbound. “I got you everything you asked for.” 

“Thanks, Miss Supreme.” She says coyly, taking out a huge bit of the triple beef burger and moaning in what can only be described as sheer ecstasy. Between mouthfuls of burger and shoving in the fries and sides, the symphony of noises that come out of her are something of another world. Cordelia can only watch on in amusement and – to her own alarm – _arousal,_ as her wife demolishes the entire take out. 

She finally grabs the pickles in a small, now soggy, bag and looks to Cordelia slowly. Embarrassment tinges the corners of her face, but not enough to stop her asking the question. “Could you go get me some bread, a banana and hot sauce?” 

Cordelia reels back. “What for?” 

“I wanna put my pickles on a sandwich.” 

“With all those things?” 

“. . . yes.” 

“ _Together_?” 

Misty nods emphatically, staring down at the pickles with so much desire in her eyes that Cordelia actually gets a little jealous. She shakes her head to send that idea flying out and then reaches for the bag, which Misty pulls out of reach protectively. 

She lets a hearty laugh fill the air. “I’ll go make your damn sandwich for you.” Cordelia explains. 

Delight jumps onto Misty's face, refusing to move, and Cordelia matches it with a rush of her own happiness. With the pickles now in her hand, she kisses Misty tenderly, hand smoothing over her bump. “I'll be right back.” 

Before she leaves, Misty gives her an in depth, five minute explanation of exactly how she wants her food made, down to layers, quantities and that it is to be cut into triangles, _not_ squares. 

Cordelia passes Madison and Zoe downstairs, this time not even having the energy to tell them to go to bed, but instead she slaves over a disgusting meal for the love of her life. And she has really to remind herself how much she loves Misty as she's slicing up bananas, interlacing with pickles slices and oh so delicately placing the hot sauce around the middle. 

_Maybe I am whipped_ , she ponders in her sleepy state. 

But when she sees the happy face of Misty as she bites into the world's most disgusting sandwich, she is certain that she doesn’t care. 

Just as certain as she knows that Misty's pregnancy cravings are horrifying. 

v.

She throws herself down on the couch in exhaustion after saying goodbye to the girls; in the armchair opposite, Autumn is well and truly passed out from the busy day. While, beside her, Misty clearly fights sleep herself. 

Because on top of Supreme duties, parenthood and pregnancy, the pair have decided to move out of the Academy into their own house. It’s tiring and leaves her with a constant headache, but most of the boxes are now in, they have beds to sleep in, and the fridge is stocked to fulfil all of Misty’s food cravings. 

“Why did we do this again?” she throws her head back and fans the sweat away from her neck. 

“’Cause you wanted to be able to have sex with me in the kitchen without anyone walkin’ in.” Cordelia feels her eyes narrow at Misty, who only stares back with nothing short of a seductive smile. She laughs sleepily. “What? It’s true.” 

Cordelia shimmies up to her side, “hmmm, it might be a little true. I’d say we should christen it now but you look tired.” She pushes Misty’s hair backwards with one hand, while the other hovers on her bare thigh. 

“Stop it.” She warns teasingly. 

“Stop what?” 

With a growing smirk, she trails her fingernails along the inside of Misty’s thigh, enjoying the way she keens under her touch. “Delia, I’m tired, I’m sweatin’, I’m gassy, and I am just about ready to explode from this baby, and you _still_ wanna have sex with me?” 

She nods eagerly. “I don’t think there’s ever a time that I don’t wanna make love to you, baby.” 

Misty gives a genuine smile, all cheeks and soft sighs. Her glossy eyes stare back at Cordelia, brimming with love. “You know what I want?” 

“What?” 

“I want a twinkie.” 

Cordelia snorts. “You do?” 

“Yeah. I want a twinkie smothered in ranch dressin’” 

She regards her with a pretty hard gaze for a moment, wondering why at all she’s surprised by anything that Misty eats anymore. But she is, and she shakes her head in disapproval. “You are so gross.” 

“It’s what your daughter wants.” 

“Suddenly she’s just mine?” 

Beaming, Misty gives her a gentle push in the direction of the kitchen. “Go get me a twinkie,” she insists. 

“Alright, bossy.” She says, but pushes herself onto her feet either way. The house is quiet without the hum of a television in the background, or the many footsteps of students and their friends, but it’s a nice quiet, the one that she thinks she’ll get used to. Said silence doesn’t last for long, for she soon hears the low hum of Misty’s singing, a delicate but sure affair. When she hovers in the doorway, she sees Misty is aiming the words in the direction of her bump, two hands firmly held over it as she sings lyrics of love. 

Misty isn’t the best singer in the world, but there’s something about the way she does it, like a private performance for just her and the baby, each word a heartfelt nuance. Whenever Misty aims that sweet southern cadence at her, she just about goes weak in the knees. Even now, just being a spectator has her heart fluttering excitedly in her chest. 

There's brief pause, as though Misty’s heightened pregnancy senses can feel food nearby, and she glances up excitedly. Reaching out a hand, she graciously accepts the offering of twinkies and is not too long after tucking in. 

Autumn starts to stir in her seat, so Cordelia gently sweeps her up and holds her close. The action is enough for her eyelids to slowly close once more, especially when Cordelia rubs her thumb over the back of her head in the way that makes her drowsy. As she finally settles down next to Misty, she can’t help but feel a sense of unbridled content washing over her. 

Even as her wife’s twinkie is all but drowning in ranch dressing. 

The Cajun catches her eyes, grinning around her next bite. Cordelia’s fingers are already playing with the ends of her hair, smiling brightly. “Your cravings are really disgusting.” 

She chuckles with glistening eyes, taking another outrageously large bite; some of the ranch is left behind on her lip, but it quickly wiped away with the back of her hand. “I know,” she says around the food, not a hint of embarrassment. “But you love me.” There’s a long pause where Cordelia only stares with the ghost of a smile. “Right?” 

“More than words can say.” 

Misty beams. 

Unable to resist, she leans forward and plants a chaste kiss to her nose, then her lips, trailing a little line of kisses along Misty’s glowing skin. All the while, her wife giggles under the attention, blushing beautifully. Cordelia can barely tear her eyes away. “That being said,” she whispers with a wicked grin, “I'm going to like it even more when you’re eating like a normal person again.” 

“Hey -” 

She placates her a deep kiss on the lips, her everything thrown into the simple motion, and Misty reciprocates in kind, their hands intertwined over her baby bump. 


End file.
